The New Yorker: Poetry cover image

Andrew Motion Reads Alice Oswald

The New Yorker: Poetry

00:00

The Poems of Elizabeth Bishop

The evening poem is a kind of chento too, i think, a chento in this sense meaning something that's made up of many pieces. In other ways, keats is somewhere in the background of the hilly loitering s exactlyor loitering. It's sort of in ar she puts that in her mind, doesn't she?

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